At some point Karl realises, distantly, that he hasn't heard an echo of voice nor step for some time. Have they skipped a meal...? He's not sure. The taste of his last bite seems bitter in his mouth still... time drags on.

The dwarf seems to have been muttering about gold, the gold, the gold, the for longest time; almost hypnotic in its repetition, lulling himself and the others into a daze. At some later point... the young ranger's mind is adrift; he stares listlessly into the implacable shadows of his windowless cell, imagining a murmur of a breeze, or sunlight, or.... butterflies...